For many years a long white cicatrice recorded the fact in my
right hand.
The ordeal was, I fancy, unique - a prerogative
of the naval 'bull-dogs.' The other torture was, in those
days, not unknown to public schools. It was to hold a boy's
back and breech as near to a hot fire as his clothes would
bear without burning. I have an indistinct recollection of a
boy at one of our largest public schools being thus exposed,
and left tied to chairs while his companions were at church.
When church was over the boy was found - roasted.
By the advice of a chum I submitted to the scorching without
a howl, and thus obtained immunity, and admission to the
roasting guild for the future. What, however, served me
best, in all matters of this kind, was that as soon as I was
twelve years old my name was entered on the books of the
'Britannia,' then flag-ship in Portsmouth Harbour, and though
I remained at the Academy, I always wore the uniform of a
volunteer of the first class, now called a naval cadet. The
uniform was respected, and the wearer shared the benefit.
During the winter of 1839-40 I joined H.M.S. 'Blonde,' a 46-
gun frigate commanded by Captain Bouchier, afterwards Sir
Thomas, whose portrait is now in the National Portrait
Gallery. He had seen much service, and had been flag-captain
to Nelson's Hardy. In the middle of that winter we sailed
for China, where troubles had arisen anent the opium trade.
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